The Leviathan and The Relic
by Ludum
Summary: The fleeing refugees of the 12 Colonies encounter the UNSC Infinity. It seems that their problems are over as the UNSC can easily steamroll the Cylons with just this one ship. But what if the Cylons knew of a weapon that can wipe out all humanity more efficiently than nuclear bombardment of 12 planets?
1. Chapter 1 I barely touched you

**Disclaimer: ownership of intellectual properties belongs to their respective owners. (i.e. Halo to Bungie/343 industries and Microsoft and Battlestar Galactica to Universal) this work of fiction is merely an exercise in creative writing and gains me no monetization.**

**Deep space**

In a spiral galaxy one of its inhabitants calls the Milky way, in between its interstellar arms, in the void between stars, an object floated aimlessly. Made of metal, ceramics, and bullet proof glass, the Colonial raptor emited almost no signs of life. Only light from distant starts reflecting of its canopy betrayed its existence to anyone looking hard enough. For all intents and purposes, it was dead in space. Yet inside its inhabitants lived and worked diligently, knowing full well the importance of their task as a scout.

"I am detecting no signature of any kind," Lieutenant Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson declared from her seat in the back of the raptor. She kept a close eye on the DRADIS screen just in case her statement jinxed them.

"Same here, Racetrack, nothing but background radiation," Replied Hamish "Skulls" McCall from the co-pilot's seat. "Looks like a good place to jump."

"Alright then," Racetrack said making her way to the front of the multirole space craft. "Spin up the FTL and let's get back to the fleet. I'm getting hungry."

Skulls gave her an odd look as she strapped herself in. "You do know we have rations back there, right?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah but I kinda want hot food in me, not that pre-packaged stuff they call food."

"Hot yes, but I wouldn't call that garbage they serve in the mess food," Skulls chuckled but stopped when he realized that this was another indication of how dire their situation was. Fresh produce, along with many other things the two pilots once took for granted, was now a thing of the past thanks to the destruction of the 12 colonies. The atmosphere in the cockpit quickly became sombre as they both drew on that realization.

"Yeah," Racetrack sighed. "It's better than cold rations though. Maybe I can ask for some fresher stuff from _Pegasus_, or one of the other ships."

"Yeah, and maybe the Admiral will buy me a room on _Cloud 9_ with the finest bottle of aged Caprican Ambrosia." Skulls let out a genuine laugh.

"Frak you!" Racetrack replied laughing along. She entered the coordinates of the fleet as the control panel indicated ready to jump. "Jumping in five... Four... Three... Two... Jump!"

Both pilots felt the simultaneous stretching and compressing of local spacetime until, like a rubber band snapping, the space craft disappeared in a flash of light. Space folded, flexed, twisted, and bent as the craft was catapulted back to its mother ship. In a blink the Raptor's cockpit was filled with the ragtag collection of surviving ships from the 12 colonies. At the heart of the fleet the ship they targeted for landing, the _Galactica_.

Raptor 307 was back.

**UNSC Infinity**

**Slipspace transit**

On Earth's most advanced warship, Captain Thomas J. Lasky leaned against the holotable with one hand on a data pad. As UNSC _Infinity_'sbridge crew worked around him, he mentally blocked the ambient sounds, re-reading the mission briefing on the pad. On it were instructions for the new Captain to take the _Infinity _back on her original mission— finding the remaining Halo installations— before she crash-landed on Requiem.

The memories of those events were still fresh on Lasky's mind. Events that led to finding the legendary Master Chief. Events that led to the Didact being released and attacking earth. Events that led to the death of the AI Cortana. Events that led to his current position as captain of the most powerful ship in the galaxy.

Lasky was so deep in thought of those events that he had glossed over the last few paragraphs on the data pad. Sighing he placed the pad on the holotable before rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Penny for your thoughts, Captain," Came an electronic voice behind him as the foot-tall orange avatar of a world war 2 bomber materialized on the holotable's display surface.

"Not much, Roland," Lasky turned around to face the ship AI. "Just wondering how I found myself in command of this." He gestured to the holographic representation of the 5.7-kilometre-long leviathan.

"Sir, if you're doubting your capabilities, I can assure you that you are more than qualified to be in command," The AI assured the captain. A sense of concern came over the AI's avatar-face. Having a commanding officer questioning his own merits would not be conducive to the overall function of the ship.

"No, not that," Lasky raised a placating hand to the AI's concern. "I mean the odds of being in the right place in the right time."

"Ah," the AI replied. "I believe the term for that, sir, is sheer dumb luck." Both laughed quietly to the amusement of any of the bridge crew within earshot. As Lasky calmed down a sombre expression came over him.

"Some were luckier than others, I guess," He said thinking to all those who died on Requiem and in New Phoenix.

"I suppose…" Roland started before cutting himself off. His head snapped to the forward of the ship as if something caught his attention.

"Roland, what's going on?" Lasky asked as he felt a slight shudder under his feet. In fact, the whole deck seemed to shudder as he noticed other bridge crew react as well. "Rol—"

"ALL HANDS BRACE FOR EMERGENCY SLIPSPACE EXIT!" Roland's voice bellowed from the ship's PA system.

No sooner had the AI declared the alert that the entire ship violently jolted. People ill prepared were thrown to the deck as 900 million metric tons of metal, composite, ceramic, and reverse-engineered Forerunner technology went from superluminal speed to relativistic in a few short seconds. Circuits broke and wires snapped raining sparks on those unfortunate enough to get caught underneath them.

In normal space an enormous vortex of bent space-time erupted from the blackness. Blueish white energy ringed the event horizon while over 5 kilometres of warship ejected itself from the 11 nonvisible infinitesimal dimensions into the familiar 3 dimensions. Arcs of energy lashed out and licked at the hull of the ship making its way past the event horizon until the final antennae passed it and the vortex closed its gaping maw.

As the portal closed behind _Infinity__, _energy surged throughout the ship. Running lights and interior lighting visible from outside flickered before cutting out completely plunging her into darkness. A second later her three massive Boglin Fields sublight engines flickered as well before finally going dark. From her myriad of windows red emergency lighting emanated, the only indication of her presence in the void.

In the command bridge captain Lasky felt a hand on his back as he heaved himself up. For a second, he had thought he had gone blind when he opened his eyes and all he saw was blackness. Relief filled him when his vision was flooded with the red hues of the command bridge. Scanning the bridge, he saw the barely controlled chaos as his crew fought isolated fires that had erupted or helping other crew members up. More light flooded the bridge as beams from flashlights danced against the ceiling and bulkheads.

His eyes landed on the man who had helped him up. It was the helmsman, Lieutenant James, he remembered. His face contorted in a grim expression made worse by the discoloration of a bruise on his left eye and a busted lip. He looked like he was shouting at him, but he could not hear him. Lasky strained to hear what the man was shouting but that only resulted in a splitting headache and a dull ringing in his ears. As he rubbed his temples and shut his eyes. The dull ringing subsided and, slowly, the sounds of his crew shouting, extinguishers venting, and the emergency klaxon became clear.

"Sir, we have to get you to sickbay!" James' voice finally became intelligible.

"Report!" Lasky called out ignoring the fussing of his helmsman.

"We've lost power, sir," the Lieutenant said yielding to his commanding officer's hint at being left alone. "We are running on batteries; it seems to be enough for life support and gravity for now."

"I'm gonna need more than we are on batteries," the captain hissed as he stood up. Blood rushed from his head leaving white spots in his vision. He took a moment to clear his head before he spoke again. "Where's Roland?"

"Here, sir," the AI's voice came from only one of the dark holotable's speaker. "All systems are offline, even I'm running on battery mode." Lasky heard the one thing any UNSC Captain dreaded hearing in their AI's voice; fear. "Sir, we are dead in the water."

**Battlestar Galactica**

**10 light-years away**

Raptor 307 had touched down only fifteen minutes ago with its recon report of the fleet's next jump coordinates. With it, Racetrack and Skulls had also brought surveillance and star mapping photos of the next location. Photos Admiral William Adama now studied while crew and staff busied themselves around the CIC.

Overhead the rhythmic whir of the DRADIS lulled to him, drawing his attention to the rest of the CIC. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend they was back in the Cyrannus star system orbiting over Caprica. He could pretend that these were his last days as an officer of the Colonial navy, looking forward to retirement. But the reality of their lives returned to him as he looked back down on the photos on the command table.

"The last of the Vipers has just landed, Admiral," Colonel Saul Tigh said replacing the Wireless' receiver back in its place. "And all ships have received the new coordinates."

"Thank you, Saul," Bill said leaning against the table. An expression of concentration was on his face but Saul new his friend long enough to know the hints in his stoic expression.

"So, this is life now, eh, Bill," Tigh declared just loud enough for the Admiral to hear. "Stay in one position for a few days then jump to a new one."

"Given the options, it's all we've got," Adama replied.

While the modus operandi for encounters with the Cylons was usually to have the fleet jump to emergency coordinates before the last 2 battlestars followed as the rear guard, during prolonged periods without encounters, Bill had decided to jump the fleet every few days. Keeping the fleet moving, Bill thought, scattered their wireless tracks and he hoped would not lead the Cylons to Earth should they find it.

Earth. A pang of guilt fell on Adama as he remembered how he had lied to the surviving remnant of humanity. His intentions were well meaning, but that didn't change the fact that he had lied to desperate people. Only by luck did they find the Tomb of Athena revealing that Earth did exist.

"Starbuck is still requesting permission to go back to Caprica," Tigh said changing the subject.

"I know," Adama replied with a resigned sigh.

"You can't possibly be thinking of letting her go through with it," the XO almost sounded indignant of the idea.

"I'm not. But considering we're all that's left of humanity…" Adama trailed off knowing that his old friend knew what he meant.

Before Tigh could protest, lieutenant Anastasia Dualla at her communications station interrupted. "Excuse me, Admiral, Colonel, but all ships have received the new jump coordinates and have FTL ready."

"Thank you, Dee," the Admiral addressed the young comms officer before turning back to his XO. "I haven't made a decision yet, Saul, but I think we should at least hear her out if she has a plan prepared."

Tigh sighed as he went back to managing the crew. The CIC's bustling grew more fervently as everyone anticipated the jump. Adama watched with a small hint of pride as his crew— practically his family— worked diligently and with the utmost professionalism to prepare the old warship.

"Alright, everyone, we've done this before. We wait until the last ship jumps before we do. We don't leave anyone behind," Tigh declared to the room.

He made eye contact with everyone in the CIC before catching the bemused look from the Admiral. The irony was not lost on him considering the conversation the two had just had. Tigh shrugged before yielding the floor to the Admiral.

"You heard him. Helm, spool up FTL and wait for my word. Dee give the go ahead to the fleet," Adama said.

"Aye, sir," the Comms officer replied. Flipping switches, she began broadcasting to the fleet. "Attention, all ships, you are a go for jump. I repeat you are a go for jump."

Adama and Tigh then turned their attention to the DRADIS screen. One by one the green dots representing each of the ships of the fleet disappeared from the screen. The first to do so was the largest ship in the fleet; the _Battlestar Pegasus_. Next to vanish in a flash of light and warped space was the presidential ship;_ Colonial one_. A minute after the order was given the last of the civilian ships had jumped leaving _Galactica_ alone.

"Jump status?" Adama inquired.

"Flight pods fully retracted, sir," an engineer announced from his station.

"Helm?"

"Coordinates locked, sir," the helmsman replied.

"On my mark," Adama said. "Three... Two... One... Jump!"

Every man and woman on the old warship felt the simultaneous stretching and compressing of space time until the ship disappeared in a flash of light. No sooner had the old Jupiter-class warship disappeared from normal space did she return a few thousand kilometers from the rest of the Colonial fleet. It seemed that she had drifted slightly in her jump. It was business as usual—

"DRADIS CONTACT!" Lieutenant Felix Gaeta called out.

**UNSC Infinity**

**Deep space**

The relief one feels knowing a loved one has survived was the same relief Lasky felt when the normal bridge lights came back to life. With the sound of the air recyclers spooling faster, it felt like the _Infinity_ was brought back from the dead. The crew busied themselves, those too injured were escorted or brought out of the bridge by corpsmen bound for sickbay. At the expert tentacles of a Huragok named Heavier Than Average, the holotable turned back on. As monitors and systems rebooted and crew members went about their damage control procedures, the Captain made his way back to the holotable to be greeted by Roland's avatar.

"Report," he ordered the artificial intelligence.

"Captain, Reactors one and two are offline. Reactor three is online. Shielding is offline. Defence weapons are offline. Offensive weapons are offline. Slipspace engine is offline. Sublight engines are offline. Life support is online. Sensor suite are offline," Roland listed out. "In short sir, we're blind, crippled, and vulnerable."

"Prioritize getting the shields and the defences up," Lasky said rounding the table. "Do we have enough power to open the windows? If we can't see with our sensors, maybe we can rely on visual."

The AI followed the Captain as he made his way past the holotable to the railings facing the front windows. Roland closed his eyes as he digitally reached out through the ship's software finding the right program.

"Yes, Captain, I believe we can," Roland piped up. "Opening barriers."

Lasky heard an audible clunk as the shutter's locking mechanisms disengaged. Slowly the metal plating parted presenting the inky black void of space. Pinpoints of light dotted the black field and Lasky knew they were still in space. Curious how the whole ship lost power and yet the artificial gravity remained strong enough to almost give him a concussion. It seemed like those were always the last things to go. Brushing the thought aside Lasky turned back to the holotable.

"At least we didn't crash on a planet this time," Lasky said remembering his time as _Infinity's _XO. "Mind telling me why we did a very dangerous Slipspace exit when nothing seemed out of the ordinary?" He eyed both Roland and lieutenant James.

"Sir, I can't say for certain. The drive gave no warning, it's as if Slipspace just spat us out," The helmsman said from his station.

"Spat us out?" Lasky's eyes narrowed as he wondered if his helmsman was making a weird and possibly career ending practical joke. "How can Slipspace just spit us out?"

"Captain, I sensed something… weird just before exiting," Roland interjected seeing the skepticism in the Captain's eyes. "It was as if all the dimensions known to science were indistinguishable for a moment."

"That still doesn't explain the 'spat us out' part," Lasky stated. "_Infinity_ is supposed to have the most advanced engines in the fleet, shouldn't they be able to overcome any anomalies."

"At this point, sir, your guess is as good as ours," Roland gestured to himself and to lieutenant James.

Lasky knew that the little orange face of the AI served mostly to humanize him to anyone he interacted with. But he understood that Roland's confused expression was genuine. Whatever anomaly or disturbance they encountered was too great even for the Forerunner engines. The question was, was this a natural occurrence or an unnatural one? Neither was appealing to the Captain.

"Get engineering on the line," Lasky ordered. He spoke again when Roland affirmed the line was established. "Dr. Glassman, when can I expect my ship to be up and running?"

"I'm almost done powering up reactor one, Captain, we should have sublight engines up and running by now," Henry Glassman replied as he typed on a control surface. The engine room was a buzz of activity as both humans and Huragok worked on repairing the crippled supercarrier.

"Doctor, I asked to prioritize shields and defences first," Lasky said, annoyed that his chief engineer prioritized something else. Around him the ship seemed to hum as more power flowed through her and a slight shudder indicated the sublight engines powering up.

"We are, sir, but the Huragok insisted on working on the propulsion systems. They got the sublight engines up and are now working on the Slipspace drive."

"Fine, doctor, how soon can I get what I asked?" Lasky asked.

"Shields will take a little longer, but point-defence guns should be up in a couple of minutes."

"Good, next priority should be sensors I want to know what we hit and—" Lasky was cut off as a flash of light erupted outside the forward windows.

"What was that?" Lieutenant Jespersen, the communications officer, asked looking up from her monitors.

Peering out the windows, Lasky saw nothing. Only the stars in a black field were present beyond the reinforced aluminium oxynitride panes. Untwinkling and unmoving, except for a single spot where the stars seemed to move in unison. Perplexed Lasky scrutinized the spot until another flash of light surprised everyone on the bridge. The second flash lit up the darkness revealing a ship where the moving stars were. The moving stars were running lights, Lasky realized.

"A ship?" Lasky inquired to no one in particular. Before a third flash erupted.

It suddenly dawned on Lasky; these ships were jumping in. These ships were using a different kind of FTL, one that didn't rely on Slipspace. If these ships weren't using Slipspace technology that could only mean one thing; this was an entirely new civilization, one that neither the UNSC nor the Covenant were aware of. These ships jumping in just as they were forced out of Slipspace could not have been coincidence. Perhaps it was this civilization that caused the Slipspace anomaly that forced _Infinity_ to drop. Were they trespassing on their territory? Was this a patrol fleet sent to investigate? Did the _Infinity_ inadvertently violate a boarder?

The last question made Lasky feel very uneasy, he hoped he hadn't caused a diplomatic incident. "Comms, are they transmitting anything?" Lasky asked.

"Sir, communication systems are still rebooting," Jespersen replied.

"We have to assume they are," Lasky said. "I have a feeling we blundered into their territory and they are asking who we are. We have to get out that we come in peace."

"Captain, are you saying that this is first contact?" Roland asked. The whole bridge was quiet at this point as more flashes appeared. Everyone aboard the ship knew what happened the last time humanity made first contact with another race.

"It's the only possibility I can think of at the moment," Lasky said after a while. "I think we stumbled onto their space and what kicked us out of Slipspace was some sort of defence. Whoever they are we have to clear things out with them."

"Knowing our track record with first contact, shouldn't we prepare defences first?" Lieutenant junior grade Austen, the weapons officer, asked.

"Yes, we should, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and agree with the Captain," Roland said. "They are probably scanning us as we speak and already know our defensive capabilities are negligible at the moment, so why haven't they attacked us yet?" Austen yielded to that reasoning.

"But how can we talk to them when we don't have comms yet?" Lieutenant James asked

"the Running lights," Jespersen supplied. "Captain, if we can blink our running lights, maybe we can relay that our communications are down, buying us time to repair them and send a first contact package."

"Make it so—" a particularly bright flash interrupted the discussion.

Turning to the windows, a large ribbed hull loomed outside. _Infinity's _powerful running lights illuminated the latest ship to appear. Her bow was vaguely alligator shaped and flanking her sides were pods of some sort that were retracted close to her main body. Her armour plating looked mismatched, as if in the process of being assembled or disassembled. The only distinguishing markings on her dull grey hull were a couple red makings on her prow and a seal on her dorsal section.

Lasky was no naval architect but there was a sleekness to her design. More details, such as the rows of flak cannons on her back, became clear as she got closer to _Infinity_. The ships' angles and trajectory indicated that they were in each other's path. It took Lasky only a moment to realize they were on a collision course. One that would damage _Infinity_ and bisect the other vessel.

"EVASIVE MANEUVERS! JAMES, BRING US UP THIRTY DEGREES!" Lasky roared.

**Galactica**

**Deep space**

"DRADIS CONTACT, BEARING ZERO-SIX-THREE CAROM ZERO-TWO-FIVE, DISTANCE TWENTY!" Lieutenant Felix Gaeta called out from his station. "ADMIRAL, IMPACT IMMINENT!"

"What the frak!" Adama cursed. "Helm, bring us down, now!"

Nozzles open throughout _Galactica's_ hull, like pores on skin. Cones of super-heated steam erupted from them as they imparted reactionary energy unto the Battlestar. Ever so slowly the colonial warship began to dip down. Likewise, the 5.7-kilometer supercarrier nosed upwards relative to the Battlestar.

"Brace for impact!" Tigh bellowed as he and the Admiral did so. Both men's eyes were fixed on the DRADIS screen overhead.

Despite the effort of both vessels, it seemed the larger ship would strike _Galactica_ with a glancing blow; clipping her port flight pod. However, as the last of the kilometres fell, pillars of flame erupted from the massive ship's belly, pushing it upwards faster. The blocky ship's bow flew past the flight pod, missing by dozens of meters. Flames from the larger ship's reaction control thrusters licked at the Battlestar's hull leaving black scorch marks.

An audible sigh escaped from the CIC. A collision had been avoided. The tension in the air subsided until a loud bang and a jolt echoed throughout the ship. Adama heard her hull ringing like a struck bell and he feared the worst.

"Damage report!" he ordered.

The engineer at Damage control scanned the indicator lights on the board before addressing the Admiral. "Sir, minimal damage. Whatever hit us just dented the hull on the port flight pod. We're venting atmosphere but those sections have been evacuated and sealed off."

"What the frak did they hit us with?" Tigh growled the question.

"Action stations," Adama declared. "Set condition one throughout the ship."

As the massive ship's sublight engines passed _Galactica's_ beam, debris trailed behind it. Sparks flew from her belly from the stump of her meter wide FTL communications antennae. On _Galactica_ atmosphere vented from the new dent she sported on her port pod until the pressure from the closed off section equalized with the vacuum of space.

Collecting themselves from a near collision the CIC now turned its attention to who or what almost hit them. Almost immediately Lieutenant Dualla's headset bristled with chatter from the fleet. She focused the bandwidth to one ship and heard the frantic voice of Commander Lee Adama.

"_Galactica_, what the frak just happened?! Dee do you read me?!" the younger Adama blurted losing all discipline in his desperation.

"Pegasusactual, this is _Galactica_,we just avoided a major collision with unknown DRADIS contact. Can you confirm?" Dualla replied keeping her composure.

It took a moment for Lee to answer but when he did the military discipline instilled in him had returned to his voice. "_Galactica_, confirm, major collision avoided. Scopes show impact with unknown's ventral antennae. What are your orders?"

"Admiral, I have _Pegasus_ on the line," The communications officer said to the Admiral.

"Pegasus actual, this is Galactica actual," Adama said into the phone. "Remain with the fleet, launch alert Vipers and prepare to defend," the Admiral's tone became quiet. "Lee, when the fleet is ready, I want you to jump with them. We'll buy you some time."

"Dad—" the younger Adama started hesitantly before being cut off.

"That's an order," the Admiral stated with a bit more steel in his voice. "Galactica actual out."

Adama placed the receiver back in its place. He had just ordered his son to leave _Galactica _to fend off the unknown. A tough ask of any father to their son, but both Adamas knew the stakes. He turned his attention back to the CIC.

"Status on the unknown."

"Unknown is holding position five hundred kilometres to our port, bearing zero-eight-four carom zero-three-seven," Lieutenant Gaeta said eyes fixed on his screen. When he turned around to face the Admiral, shock was on his face. "Admiral, ship measures five point seven kilometres long."

"That's four times the size of _Galactica,_" Tigh muttered. "If that's a new Cylon baseship we don't know it's capabilities."

"Launch alert Vipers. We aren't taking any chances," Adama ordered. "Get me firing solutions on the unknown."

"Admiral, I'm receiving transmissions from the unknown ship," Lieutenant Dualla said one hand firmly pressed against her headset.

"Transmission?" the Admiral asked. "On speaker."

A male voice spoke up, echoing throughout the CIC, in a language none of the colonials understood. As it spoke a pattern emerge; a repeating sequence of words as if the same sentence was said repeatedly in different languages. Everyone in the room was transfixed by the sound; there was a familiarity to it. Familiar yet foreign.

"What the frak is this?" Tigh grumbled. "Who are these people?" Tigh and Adama shared a look. The same thought occurred to both men, yet neither voiced it. Aliens.

The audio continued in different languages until one caught everyone by surprise. A language every single surviving human on the Colony fleet understood.

"This is the United Nations Space Command ship UNSC _Infinity_, Greetings on behalf of the United Earth Government."

A/N

I haven't written a fanfic in a very long time, so please criticize and help me improve. The idea for this fic came to me after reading others just like it, in particular Battlestar Galactica: The Guiding Fire by GunnyStacker (good fic by the way please read it and beg them to continue.) I will try to make this as accurate to cannon as possible, however some liberties/ artistic license will be taken for the sake of the plot.


	2. Chapter 2 Meet the neighbors

**Disclaimer: ownership of intellectual properties belongs to their respective owners. (i.e. Halo to Bungie/343 industries and Microsoft and Battlestar Galactica to Universal) this work of fiction is merely an exercise in creative writing and gains me no monetization.**

**UNSC Infinity **

**Deep space**

"Damage report!" Lasky called out

"Wavecom antennae destroyed, Captain," Lieutenant Jespersen declared. On her screen multiple error messages flashed.

"Anything else?" No answer came from the bridge crew. "Damn that was close," he muttered. Antennae can easily be repaired while deployed, the ship... not so much.

"Captain, comm system online. Sending first contact package," Jespersen announced.

"Good, hopefully they don't interpret our near miss as hostile."

First contact had changed since before the war. Whereas before, the 'package' was a lump-sum of greeting, cultural, and scientific sharing, modern first contact protocol started with just a greeting, nothing more until a reply was received. It was believed that the war started from a misinterpretation of the UNSC's package as a challenge to the Covenant's position of power. In particular, those of the Prophets who held the highest rank in the Covenant until their demise. The greeting consisted of mostly of a hello in different languages accompanied by friendly, non-threatening images of humanity.

"Captain, I'm picking up chatter from the alien fleet," The communications officer said, confusion plastered on her face. "'it's in English."

"What?" For the second time that day Lasky thought one of his senior officers were making a joke. "On speakers."

The communications officer tapped on her control surface and the bridge flooded with multiple overlapping distress calls. One look to Roland and the AI knew to filter each transmission.

"_Pegasus_, this is the _Adriatic_, what do we do?"

"_Cloud nine_ to _Colonial One _what is going on? Who is the gigantic ship?"

"_Battlestar Galactica_, do you read? _Carina_ to _Battlestar Galactica_..."

"_Astral Queen_ to all ships, spool up FTL. I repeat..."

"Unknown ship is broadcasting..."

"Is it the Cylons? Is this a Cylon trick?"

"Can anyone understand this language? Who are they?"

The bridge was dead silent as the transmissions continued. Almost every word said, every transmission was made in English. Accented in varying degrees, but English. Some words were foreign to the UNSC crew. What was a Cylon? Names were dropped as well; in particular, individuals named President Roslin and an Admiral Adama. Names that sounded too familiar this far from any known colony.

"Am I the only one who thinks they sound Human?" Roland voiced everyone's thoughts. "Some of their ships even sound Earth based."

"Roland, do we have a colony this far out that I don't know about?" Lasky asked already knowing the answer but wanting confirmation.

"No, Captain, all colonies are accounted for. The nearest colony is hundreds of light-years away."

"Could they be insurrectionists?" Lieutenant Austen asked. If the answer was a positive, they needed to act fast or _Infinity_, the most powerful ship in the galaxy, may very well fall into Rebel hands again.

"I don't think so, Lieutenant," Lasky answered. "If they were, they would have attacked us as soon as they saw us."

"The big-ass UNSC logo on the bow would have seen to that," Roland deadpanned, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Captain, sensor systems are up," Sensor officer Lieutenant Cameron announced. "The unidentified ship we almost hit is launching a broadside. No radiological signatures detected they appear to be fighters… sir, we are being painted."

_They must think we're a threat! _Lasky wanted to panic. The very animalistic centre of his brain screamed at him to fight or flee irrationally, but military discipline kept him in line. Falling back on his training, he accounted for all the variables and weighed his options. The facts were, he had no idea how capable his ship was right now, let alone what the capabilities of the enemy was. If his Slipspace engines were functional he could simply initiate an emergency random jump, perhaps come back with more level heads and better odds. So, flight was out of the question. They had to fight. He could order deployment of the _Strident_-class frigates and Infinity's full complement of F-41 Broadswords to counter the fleet. He just hoped the frigates weren't affected by whatever knocked them out.

"General Quarters," Lasky ordered placing both hands on and leaning against the holotable. "Lieutenant Austen, what is the status of the _Stridents_?"

"_Stridents_ on standby, Captain," The weapons officer replied automatically, anticipating his commanding officer. "They don't seem to have been affected by our exit."

"Good, launch and have them form a defensive perimeter around _Infinity_, they will act as our shield until we can finish repairs. Deploy all Broadswords, have them intercept 'bandits' from target designated 'Bogey one'," Lasky tapped the holographic alligator-headed ship and incoming fighters, giving them a name. "Engage only when fired upon."

With the orders given, the bridge descended into controlled chaos. Klaxons wailed and the front window shutters slid shut while crewmen manned their respective stations. _Infinity_ would not be fighting at peak performance but that didn't mean she was totally defenceless. The slight trembling under his feet told Lasky that the _Stridents_ were being launched.

"ETA to bandits' interception?" Lasky inquired.

"Three minutes, Captain," Roland replied. A holographic countdown appeared next to him. Anticipating the Captain, the AI added, "Broadswords deployed and on intercept course."

"Good," The Captain turned to face the communications station, "Lieutenant Jespersen, they speak English, try and establish communications. Tell them we don't want to fight but will defend ourselves by any means if necessary. I would prefer we avoid a bloodbath."

"Captain Lasky, bandits have stopped and are pulling back," Cameron announced. On the holotable the 20 red triangles representing the enemy squadron double backed forming up between _Infinity_ and bogey one. _Infinity's_ own complement was still on its way.

"Well done, Lieutenant Jespersen, efficiency like that must mean you're half AI. Perhaps you should be answering to me, you know being ship director and all," Roland joked.

"Sir, I haven't even transmitted yet," Jespersen said to both Captain and AI.

_Then why did they stop?_ Lasky thought. "Hail then now. I want to know what the hell is going on,"

Jespersen nodded. She turned back to her console and focused her transmission on the unknown fleet's channel. "Unknown vessels this is the UNSC _Infinity_, do you read me?"

**Battlestar Galactica**

**Deep space**

"It's got to be a Cylon trap. There's no other way," Saul Tigh growled out. His ire targeted directly at the bespectacled man in front of him.

"And if you're wrong, then you, Colonel, could be the very reason we missed an opportunity making contact with the Thirteenth Tribe," Doctor Gaius Baltar retorted. His words dripped with contempt but his featured portrayed someone one step away from wetting himself.

Around them the ship calling itself _Infinity_ broadcasted again. This time however they had done so just in Caprican. Realizing that their wireless was unsecure the rest of the fleet had gone silent. Now it was up to _Galactica_ to answer. Adama knew he had to, but the delay would buy the fleet more time to jump away. He just hoped that the unknown would keep their focus on them.

"Admiral, please we have to reply. It could be our only shot at establishing good relations with the Thirteenth Tribe" Baltar pleaded. If he couldn't get to the Colonel, then perhaps the Admiral would be more receptive.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Vice President," Adama said. "But I have to agree with my XO. This may very well be a Cylon trap, one I have no intentions of walking into by answering them."

Baltar paled upon hearing this. He paled even more when the beautiful blond woman in a red cocktail dress somehow materialised behind the Admiral. There was a sultry and domineering smile on her face, one that told him to do what must be done by any means. Earlier she had suddenly "summoned" him to his hallucinated house, one she had gifted to him where he fulfilled all his carnal desires on her.

"Do you know how a clock works, Gaius?" She had asked him as she rubbed his back with tanning oil. Gaius laid prone on a sunlounger enjoying her sensual touch; forgetting that he was in fact still in his lab onboard _Galactica_.

"Yes, of course I do," He had replied but before he could explain to her, she spoke.

"Then you know how every piece has a role to do. Every piece must do its job in order for the whole mechanisms to work," She said. "And a big piece is about to fall into place."

"You mean me?" Baltar turned around to face her after a moment thinking what she had said.

She looked at him in surprise before giggling like a little girl. "Oh, Gaius, you're not a gear in a clock," Baltar rolled his eyes, yielding to her teasing. "But you still are part of god's plan."

"Think of an ant riding the clock, jumping from one gear to another," She continued when Baltar turned to her again.

"Your telling me I'm an ant?" He voiced his indignation. Sometimes he grew tired of her, tired of her teasing and often overt condescension, but she always made up for it by the pleasure she gave him. Pleasure he could only experience from her.

She didn't answer, instead drawing him into a passionate kiss. As quickly as it started it ended with him back in _Galactica's_ lab sucking in air as Admiral Adama counted down to jump. Almost immediately the old Battlestar's artificial gravity shifted under the Vice President followed by a loud bang that knocked him to his knees. Finding his way to the CIC, Baltar heard the trailing end of the unknown's first transmission. Like everyone he was shocked at hearing the word Earth in the transmission.

"Admiral, I must insist we contact them. If they are the Thirteenth Tribe then all our problems may be solved," Baltar practically pleaded.

"That's a big assumption, Mr. Vice President," Adama replied flatly, "And I'm not willing to risk the fleet on an assumption. If it pleases you, as soon as we jump to the emergency coordinates with the rest of the fleet, I'll send a Raptor to gather information on the unknown. Only when we have confirmation they aren't Cylons will we come back and try to make proper contact."

"Sir, unknown ship has weapons lock on us!" Lieutenant Gaeta cried. The two officers and the Vice President's eyes went wide at the tactical officer. "What the… I read eleven vessels targeting us."

"Eleven? I thought it was just one ship that almost hit us?" Tigh asked. They looked up to the DRADIS screen and sure enough where there was one unknown contact now there were eleven. "Frak me, where did those ships come from?"

"Additional unknown contacts, size and profile are similar to Raiders," Gaeta added. "They are holding a defensive formation around main unknown."

"Unknown vessel, this is Captain Thomas Lasky of the UNSC_ Infinity_, stand down weapons. I repeat stand down weapons or we will be forced to take lethal action," a different voice, male, came on the wireless.

"Looks like you get your wish, Mr. Vice President. Open a channel." Adama said. he picked up the receiver from its holder. "This is Admiral William Adama of the Colonial Battlestar _Galactica_. I have no intention of standing down. Any action taken against this ship or this fleet and I launch every nuke at my disposal." He spoke with as much authority he could muster, putting emphasis on his threat.

Everything else around Baltar seemed to drift into the distance. The flurry of activity of the CIC, Tigh shouting orders, Adama and this Captain Lasky exchanging threats, it all seemed to disappear into the background as his eyes were glued to the overhead DRADIS screen and the little icons on it. A seed of an idea started to germinate in his mind, one that could convince the colonial officers that this was the Thirteenth Tribe.

"You have an idea, don't you, Gaius," She stated more than asked. Baltar's gaze never broke from the screen but he knew it was _her_.

"I believe I do," He replied absently. "Admiral, I—"

"Captain, if you will not permit a boarding party to verify your identity then you leave me no choice but to assume you to be Cylons and deem you a threat to this fleet," Adama practically growled into the mouthpiece, knuckles white with anger.

"Admiral—"

"This is a UNSC ship, we have no association with the Cylon faction you are talking about. Now stand down weapons or we will be forced to engage," The other Captain replied.

"Admiral, if I may just—"

"So be it. Lieutenant Dualla, contact the _Pegasus_, have them arm warheads and weapons lock on that ship,"

Baltar felt his blood drain. These stubborn idiots were really going to start shooting one another. Thinking fast he reached for the other receiver. "Captain Lasky, Admiral Adama, please listen," he knew he sounded like a mewling child but at this point it was the only way to stop them from killing everyone.

"Who is this? Identify," Captain Lasky questioned.

"My name is Gaius Baltar, Vice President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. I may have a way out of this standoff that doesn't involve blowing each other to kingdom come," Baltar said. It was only then that he realized that the CIC had gone deathly quiet again. Every eye was looking at him, in particular the death glare of Admiral Adama.

"I'm listening, Mr. Vice President," said Captain Lasky after a moment.

It took longer but after a nonverbal pleading from Baltar the Admiral finally yielded.

"As am I," he said through gritted teeth.

**Colonial Viper 8757**

**Deep space**

Captain Kara "Starbucks" Thrace was not having a normal day. Then again, what was normal when a race of genocidal robots destroyed your home planet, forcing you and a handful of survivors to run led by a museum ship? This day, however, was particularly unusual. Starting with the _Galactica_ doing dramatic manoeuvres, to a loud impact felt throughout the ship, she was now in the cockpit of her Colonial Viper flying a defensive formation around the old Battlestar. The adrenalin rush of a potential battle didn't stop her from gaping at the massive unknow ship hundreds of kilometres away. Even from such a distance Starbuck could tell it wasn't any ship she had seen before. No one had said it, but all thoughts were on the Cylons.

Everyone in the Alert squadron had anticipated combat with the 'unknown'. With itchy trigger fingers they accelerated towards the larger ship until she started broadcasting. The mention of Earth in clear but accented Caprican put a dampener on things, it was all Starbuck could do not to join her squad mates in arguing the authenticity of the message. She was about to decide whether to continue into combat or hold their position, a decision made for her when _Galactica_ ordered them to stand by and return. Now they, along with other vipers launched from the old Battlestar, waited for orders if they were to engage or not. Starbuck knew that the Admiral and the other ship's CO had to be communicating if the fight hadn't started yet.

A few minutes passed. A few tantalizingly long minutes for the pilots to contemplate on the situation

"Gods, what's taking so long?" Louanne "Kat" Katraine voiced her impatience over the wireless.

"Whatever it is, at least we are buying time for the fleet to jump," Starbuck replied. Inside she also felt the same impatience growing within her.

"Do you think it's really them? The Thirteenth Tribe?" Brendan "Hot Dog" Costanza inquired.

"Don't be stupid, Hot Dog, it's those toasters. I just know it," Kat replied, contempt dripping from her voice.

"Then why were we ordered to stand down?" Hot Dog retorted.

"Shut it!" Starbuck snapped, nipping the argument in the bud.

All the sorties they had done, all the engagements they had been through it was easy to forget that a majority of the Viper pilots from _Galactica_ were still green. They were civilians with no formal training, only a crash course from a hot-headed instructor. True enough they were skilled pilots, but they were by no means military in the strictest sense.

"Starbuck, _Galactica_, do you read?" Dee's voice piped up from the wireless.

"_Galactica_, Starbuck, I read you. How copy?" she replied immediately.

"Starbuck, contact established with unknown ship designated UNSC _Infinity_. They claim to be from Earth, but we cannot confirm. You are to fly to designated rally point and rendezvous with their interceptors. Establish visual contact with gun cam. Copy?"

"Copy, _Galactica_, Starbuck out," she switched frequency to her fellow raptors. "Kat, Hot Dog, you heard her, lets greet our new guest. Watch my six, these frakkers try anything funny you're my way out."

When both pilots confirmed, the three Vipers peeled away from the old Battlestar. This was it, they would either meet their salvation or discover a Cylon ruse. Both outcomes set Starbuck on edge and she felt her heart beat faster.

As the distance to the unknown ship— UNSC _Infinity_ – shrank new DRADIS contacts popped up on her screen. That couldn't be right; it said there were now eleven ships. Looking up Starbuck could just make out the ten smaller ships in a defensive formation around the _Infinity_.

"Where the frak did those come from?" Kat exclaimed the same line of thought.

Before she could reply, six new DRADIS contacts popped up again. The system painted them as significantly smaller, about the size of a civilian shuttle. In a formation of their own, the new contacts were on an intercept course with her squad.

_I thought they were sending interceptors._

They banked to her starboard and for the briefest of moments Starbuck thought this was a trap. Her expectations of another squadron pulling up behind her were unfounded however when none appeared. Realizing what they were doing, she took the lead and banked as well. Soon her own squadron was approaching their formation.

Without the ambiguity of distance, she could finally see them in more detail. They were interceptors, only much bigger. Each one had to be at least twice the size of her Viper, but their shape, though odd, did have a certain 'human' aesthetic to it. In fact, she could see Colonial manufacturers coming up with this design, were they still standing.

Getting closer she prepared her Viper's gun cam to snap pictures and transmit back to Galactica. As her Viper passed the column of interceptors, she got a good look at their pilots. The sight of their human facial features, just visible through their visors sent a wave of relief through her, until she realized they could be those skinjobs. Reaching the end of the column she proceeded to send the images back to _Galactica_.

"I must say, that is the cutest little bird I have ever seen," an accented male voice came on her wireless. She looked to the interceptor alongside her, whose pilot had a wide grin on his face.

"A damned sight better than that city bus you're flying," Starbuck retorted. How dare he call her Viper 'cute'.

She expected a verbal retaliation from the pilot but was instead greeted by a raucous laughter. Everything Starbuck knew about Cylons, everything instilled in her from adults, teachers, history or propaganda, told her that the toasters were machines incapable of emotion. Not even the skinjobs, who looked, sounded, even smelled like a human, registered as such to her. But for some reason, hearing this unknown pilot, in his unknown interceptor laughing gave her a gut feeling that they weren't her enemy. Slowly she found herself laughing with the other pilot.

**Battlestar Galactica**

**Deep space**

"Receiving download," Lieutenant Gaeta announced. Without being asked he sent the images to the overhead screens.

Adama, Tigh, and Baltar stood on one side of the command table eyes fixed on the screens. Opposite them, under heavy guard and restraints, the pregnant form of the Cylon defector also watched as the pictures flashed by. She scrutinized every face that flashed by, drawing on her memories to find anyone who might stand out as one of the other humanoid Cylons.

Sharon Valerii didn't like being paraded around in chains or summoned like a child, but she would do whatever it took to convince the Admiral that she could be trusted. She suffered in silence at the near humiliating treatment not just for herself, but for Helo and their unborn child. That meant gruelling interrogations or imprisonment in a glass box for anyone to gawk at like some animal. Now that meant looking for anyone in the rolling pictures that might be a Cylon spy.

"Well? Recognize anyone?" Adama asked, his voice devoid of any emotions.

"I don't," Valerii replied succinctly, with just as much feeling.

"That settles it, Admiral," Baltar declared. "They aren't Cylons. I suppose we should contact Captain Lasky and inform him—"

"They could still be Cylons," Tigh interrupted the Vice President. "Boomer's Intel on the skinjobs could be outdated. What if these are newer models?"

Baltar stared at the XO mouth agape. Here they were, presented with evidence pointing to their first encounter with the Thirteenth Tribe and they were content with putting their fingers in their ears and humming. He was about to voice his protest when Valerii spoke up.

"They can't be newer models," She said pointedly. "There are only seven humanoid Cylon models. We make copies of ourselves, but we can't make new models."

"And I suppose we're just going to take your word for it?" Tigh ground out, no effort made in hiding his hatred for her.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Admiral," Valerii said but directed the message at Tigh. "I know the faces of the other models and I haven't seen anyone in that squadron."

Adama looked at her for a moment. The fate of the fleet lay on his next move. If he trusted her and this was indeed a trap, their only hope was on Lee following his orders and leaving them behind. If it wasn't, however… "Okay then," he finally said. "Dee, hail the _Infinity_,"

"Bill?!" Tigh asked incredulously while Baltar let out a relieved sigh.

"I know, Saul. But sometimes you have to roll the hard six." Adama said leaning on the command table.

Yielding to his friend's wisdom, Tigh's posture relaxed. "I hope you know what you are doing."

**Colonial One**

**Deep space**

President Laura Roslin paced behind her desk. As soon as _Colonial One_ had returned to normal space her DRADIS array had picked up the massive ship a thousand kilometres away. Not for the first time since the fall, Roslin had felt paralytically hopeless as one by one more of the surviving human ships jumped into what she assumed was a trap. That was until _Galactica_ had arrived. A tiny spark of hope flickered in her when she saw the unknown ship turn its attention from the fleet to the old Battlestar. She mentally kicked herself when she selfishly felt relief from _Pegasus's_ instructions for all ships to jump while _Galactica_ bought them time.

_What about Bill? _She thought. _Are we just going to leave Galactica and run for it?_

She knew every ship in the fleet hastily prepared to jump as soon as their FTLs were spooled up. But she had a feeling none of them would do so when the unknown ship transmitted and, in clear yet accented Caprican, stated that they were from Earth. So now they waited, civilian ships' jump drives just about ready, and two Battlestars with fingers just above their triggers. The only reason the battle hadn't started yet was most likely because communication had been made.

It irked her that she wasn't on _Galactica_ with Bill, that should this ship really be from earth their first contact would be with Gaius Baltar. However, that also meant that if this was a trap, he would be in more danger. She still had a bone to pick with the Vice President, not least of which was his denouncing of her and announcing of his candidacy for the presidency. Political rivalry was fine, but not when she was convinced that her opponent was somehow involved with the nuclear holocaust that all but ended the 12 Colonies. The memory was hazy, but she had no doubt that that was Gaius Baltar intimately engaged with a humanoid Cylon at the Riverwalk Park.

"Madam President, Admiral Adama is on the line for you," Tory Foster, Roslin's Chief of Staff after Billy Keikeya died, had pulled her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?" it took her a moment to process what the brown skinned woman had said. "Oh, thank you, Tory," She straightened herself and her dress suit before picking up the phone.

"Bill, is everything alright?"

"Madam President, everything's fine, only minor injuries from the impact," he hesitated before continuing. "We have made contact with the unknown ship identifying itself as the UNSC _Infinity_ and, with the aid of Boomer, have confirmed that they are not Cylons."

"That's… good to hear, Bill," Roslin managed. Her mind was racing, if they weren't Cylons who were they? The answer she wanted pushed its way to the front of her mind and she asked, "Is it them, Bill? Is it the Thirteenth Tribe?"

"That's what they claim, Madam President," Adama replied stoically.

"Oh, my gods!" Roslin exclaimed. All her hopes, all her dreams of finding the Thirteenth Tribe to offer them aid and refuge was finally coming true. All their sacrifice and suffering were finally coming to an end. "Then we have to begin talks immediately. Have them send a delegation to _Cloud nine_. I will inform the Quo—"

"It's already being taken care of, Madam President," Adama cut her off. "They are sending a small team to _Galactica_ for a face to face meeting. Vice President Baltar will be leading the negotiations." The Admiral did little to hide the contempt in his voice at the last sentence.

"Well, we can't have that now, can we. I think the people of the Thirteenth Tribe should have their first meeting with the President of the Twelve Colonies."

"Then I shall prepare for your arrival, Madam President," Adama disconnected the line and Roslin was once again alone with her thoughts.

A great weight had lifted from her shoulders. A weight she bore the day she was inaugurated as President of the 12 Colonies. Earth wasn't a myth, the Tomb of Athena proved that. The Tomb brought them one step closer to their long-lost cousins. But this—UNSC _Infinity_—was the real deal. Not a clue to their location, but the actual people themselves. Much still had to be done, negotiate with them, about protection, about asylum, the Articles of Colonization, but for now Roslin let the immense feeling of relief wash over her, like waves in the ocean.

"Tory," she said after a while. "Have the pilot dock with _Galactica_. Let's meet our cousins."

**UNSC Pelican**

**En route to Galactica**

The slight shudder of the UNSC Pelican told Commander Sarah Palmer that the dropship had exited the launch bay's atmospheric shield. Now out of _Infinity's _artificial gravity and buffer fields, the comparatively miniscule Pelican was at the whim of Newton's laws. Palmer along with the members of Fireteam Crimson onboard jostled in their crash harnesses as the dropship oriented itself and accelerated towards the alien warship.

_Were they really aliens though?_ The commander of _Infinity's _Spartan contingent thought to herself.

Lasky had briefed her on the situation. Calling it unbelievable was an understatement; insane would have been a more apt term. But she heard the comm recordings; speech in accented, but understandable, English. She saw the sensor data; ships of odd design but with a very human aesthetic and name. She saw the images from the Broadswords. Whoever they were they were only alien in that they were unknown.

Unknowns and soldier did not get along very well, so Palmer and Fireteam Crimson agreed to meet these 'Colonials' in person. Escorting a 'first contact package' was the perfect excuse for this away mission. Sending Spartans was more of an insurance policy that should things not go well it would end in their terms.

"They've got to be Innies," one of the Spartans, said.

"Can't be. They'd have fired the moment they saw us," another replied.

"Yeah, and the Innies are crafty but I don't think they can come up with a different means of faster-than-light travel," yet another added. Soon a small debate had started as to who their new "friends" were.

"I've got an idea," Palmer said, letting her irritation seeping into her voice. "Why don't we focus on the mission and leave the theorizing to the eggheads."

"C'mon, Commander, you're not the least bit curious about who they are?"

Palmer didn't reply, instead eyeing down the Spartans one by one. her faceplate displayed no emotions, but everyone knew she was glaring daggers at anyone who defied her. In truth she was curious. Who were these people? Why did they look and sound human? Where did they come from? She was curious, but as commander of these Spartans she had to maintain composure.

"Roland, got anymore intel we may need?" She asked the AI through an encrypted channel only she and Fireteam Crimson could access.

"Well," the AI replied. "Based on chatter between _Galactica _and a ship called _Colonial One_ they seem to think we are a group they call the Thirteenth Tribe. They don't have a fleet network I can tap into so no good on details, I'm afraid."

"_Colonial One_… that sounds like a ship that carries—"

"Yep," Roland cut her off. "It's a presidential vessel. Must be the transport of this President Roslin."

"Wait, why would their President be out here in the middle of nowhere?" one of the Spartans asked.

"You can ask her yourself. _Colonial One_ seems to be docking with _Galactica _so I expect you will be meeting her."

"What an honour, we get to meet the President." Palmer said sardonically. Like any other soldier, Palmer did little to hide her annoyance at politicians.

"One more thing, Commander," Lasky chimed in. "we want to know who they are, so use deadly force only when absolutely necessary."

"Copy that, sir."

OoO

As the Pelican approached 1 kilometre from the Battlestar, 2 fighters flanked it, escorting the dropship towards the aft opening of its port landing bay. Tapping into the Pelican's external cameras gave the Spartans a better view of the old Battlestar. She was a dull grey like any human naval ship in the UNSC, but her curves gave her a slight resemblance of Covenant ships. Palmer took particular interest in the massive flack cannons Stradling the ship's back. She dreaded to think what they would be capable of to an unshielded ship, let alone their tiny Pelican.

Following instructions, the pilots guided the dropship into the bay, daintily squeezing passed the docked _Colonial One_, before touching down on the elevator decking. It wasn't smooth as the Pelican dropped a good half meter once the magnetic plating activated securing the dropship to the Battlestar.

Audible curses were heard from the Spartans as the Pelican did so. _If anyone's asleep that should wake them up,_ Palmer thought. A few seconds later she felt her weight returning as the Battlestar's artificial gravity pulled on her at a comfortable 1g. Through the external cameras and the audible clunking and thuds from the dropship's hull. Palmer could tell that they were cycling through an airlock. One that ended when the Pelican slowly descended again into what looked like an internal hanger.

"Alright, Spartans, it's show time," the Commander declared. "They may be human, but this is still first contact. I don't think I have to remind you of what happened the last time first contact didn't go well."

Before the Pelican's rear door unlocked, Palmer snuck one last look at the people they were about to meet. They were indeed human, as if plucked from any of the colonies, but they were dressed differently, in clothes that looked more at home in a museum. Some looked haggard and worn, in particular those in bright coloured jumpsuits, while others looked aged, not only in years, but by stress.

In the middle of the gathering crowd, Palmer identified those she assumed were in charge. An old, rough faced man whose slight scowl reminded her of her brief encounter with Admiral Hood. Next to him, a stout woman who had the stern and knowing features of a schoolteacher yet carried herself like a head of state. Finally, there was a thin, bespectacled man standing slightly apart from the other two who somehow, managed to look arrogant and nervous simultaneously.

The Pelican's rear door opened fully, and the Spartans disembarked. Rounding the Pelican, Palmer's enhanced audio picked up audible gasps from the crowd. Faces of surprise and, possibly fear, were seen in the crowd. A normal human reaction to seeing the towering super soldiers for the first time. If she was honest the reaction didn't grow old and she somewhat enjoyed it. What Palmer didn't enjoy was to be staring down the barrels of a dozen rifles.

"Cylons!" one of the rifle wielding soldiers cried out.

**Battlestar Galactica**

**Deep space**

"Cylons!" cried out one of the Marines as their weapons rose up.

Immediately, armed men surrounded Laura Roslin and Gaius Baltar, putting themselves between the towering armoured humanoids and their charges while aiming their own sidearms at the new arrivals. For his part, Adama was herded back roughly, providing him a decent view of the unfolding events.

The moment he saw them, Adama's stomach dropped. He had bet on them being the Thirteenth Tribe, being their salvation. Now he had practically invited a Cylon boarding party onto his ship. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have been so naive? Why did he think he could trust Boomer again?

In a swift, inhuman motion, the lead Centurion snatched something from its waist and hurled it to the deck. Being a naval person, Adama had not much experience fighting the Cylons on the ground, but he had never heard of them using hand grenades. More baffling was how much closer this grenade seemed to be to them rather than the Colonials. In fact, the device was practically next to the lead Centurion's feet. The marines, entertaining no such thought, instinctively fired their first salvo at the canners.

Before a single bullet reached them, however, a translucent geodesic dome enveloped the armoured hulks. Each round fired from the Colonial rifles bounced of the dome leaving those inside untouched. sparks erupted around the dome as bullets ricocheted off. Realizing too late the danger they were in the Colonials ceased fire just as one errant bullet impacted an unfortunate marine on the shoulder.

"What the frak is that thing?!" Adama asked incredulously.

No one answered him as they all stared in horror as the Centurions, their own weapons drawn, walked out of the dome as if it wasn't there. Adama knew what was to come and he braced for the pain of being riddled with bullets. It never came.

"Drop your weapons! Now!" an enhanced female voice bellowed from the lead Centurion. Accented like Captain Lasky's but more authoritative.

"What the frak?" a marine asked. "It speaks?"

"Yes, _she _did, now perhaps I wasn't clear. Drop your goddamn weapons before we turn you all into Swiss cheese." To emphasize her words the other 'Centurions' flicked the safeties of their rifles.

"Not a chance, Canner," the same marine said.

They were back at square one, a standoff where one party stared down the other. Different scale –rifles in lieu of nuclear warheads – but a standoff, nonetheless. A silence fell on the hanger as neither side made a move on nor yielded to the other. The tension was broken when Adama heard a commotion to his left.

"Madam President, what are you doing?!" One of the guards shouted.

Ignoring him, Roslin pushed herself to the front and addressed the centurions directly. "If your intentions are to kill us, then do it already. You may take this ship but once we transmit what has happened here the rest of the fleet will jump, and humanity will still survive." Adama had seen courage in the face of death before, but the way the President confronted the Cylons amazed him.

"Lady, what the hell are you talking about? You shot at us first," a centurion behind the lead questioned. "And what are you talking about 'humanity surviving'? The Covies aren't much of a threat as they were during the war."

"Suarez!" The lead centurion scolded.

"Madam President!" Baltar had managed to break free from his bodyguards as well. He reached Roslin with his hands up in a placating manner. "We made a mistake; I do not believe that they are Cylons."

"What are you talking about Gaius? How do you know this?"

At that the Vice President hesitated, as if he let slip something. "I… please this was all a misunderstanding. Please lower your weapons and let us try to explain," he addressed both the marines and the armoured hulks.

"All due respect, Mr. Vice President, I'd sooner eat my own rifle than lower it in front of the Cylons," a marine stated.

"Again with the Cylon bullshit, haven't we already established we aren't them?" another centurion interjected.

"Perhaps if you could show us that you are human we'd be more inclined to listen," Roslin declared.

It took a moment before the lead centurion made small movements reminiscent of a side glance to the others. They stepped forward, flanking the lead as if to protect it, before the lead lowered its weapon and brought its hands to its head. With a click and a hiss, it came off revealing – to the astonishment of the Colonials – a brown haired woman with stern features. An expression of anger, Roslin herself had used in a classroom, painted her face.

"Proof enough for you?" she asked in a more natural yet still accented voice.

In their surprise the Marines slowly lowered their rifles. This cued the other party to do the same. The tension in the hanger seemed to deflate as all muzzles pointed towards the deck.

"Now that that's over, mind explaining why you shot at us?" the armoured woman inquired.

Before either Roslin or Baltar could explain, the PA speakers and warning klaxons screeched to life.

"ACTION STATIONS! SET CONDITION ONE THROUGHOUT THE SHIP! ADMIRAL ADAMA TO THE CIC!"

**A/N**

I sincerely apologize for the late update. I failed to mention to you guys that I had recently started med school thus unfortunately updates will be limited and sporadic. I have every intention of finishing it as I already have an end in mind. It is my hope that you treat my fic like a series that you just like and are pleasantly surprised was updated.

I don't like how this chapter went down. Thinking of a first contact scenario between two different branches of humanity is harder than I thought. That being said writing quality may have taking a hit in the process. I will try to correct this in the succeeding chapters.

I really hope 'mind' six's ant on gears message wasn't too obvious or too cryptic. I didn't enjoy writing it. If it were up to me, I would have omitted all of Baltar/ six conversations. As is I'm still trying to create a new "god's plan" to fit the story.

Without giving spoilers I will be explaining why they all parties speak English and how _Infinity_ – an advanced forerunner powered ship – experienced Slipspace anomalies in a future chapter. In fact I may go so far as to say it's a clue to the plot and to an upcoming character, albeit a vague one.

Again, please inform me if you find anything amiss. Without a doubt plot holes will arise, but I will do my best to try and plug them. Grammatically, please tell me where I am stumbling being dyslexic can be a burden, but I would still like to improve.


End file.
